Yes, I do. This was said to me today when I answered the “how far along are you now?” question. I honestly hadn’t really thought about it. I’ve been going day by day and hour by hour feeling him move and reassuring myself. But you know? That was a really good feeling to realize his viability.

In other news, I wrote up the asshole doctor today. I sent it to all the management and administrators, and they said that it was forwarded to the medical director. They say he gets things done. We’ll see. I spoke with the anesthesiologist and my boss today as well. My boss reassured me that no one thinks it’s me, and that I’ve had witnesses each time, and that I’ve just had a really bad few weeks. I told her how I felt about how things were being explained and reinforced to the surgeons (or lack thereof) and she told me that she’s requesting the medical director’s help in having the surgeons and other docs discuss things betwixt themselves, and leave us out of it until they come to a consensus. I thought that was just an automatic professional courtesy between MD’s. Apparently not. I’m just glad to be done with it. And hey, I managed to get through a whole day without anyone yelling at me. I’m considering that an accomplishment.

I was on call yesterday, and the same doc that hollered at me twice a couple of weekends ago did it again. Only this time, I was berated for “pulling my typical Nina crap” (his exact words) “and lecturing me about the rules.” I was presenting a professional issue to the anesthesiologist because this surgeon was unhappy with the service he was providing. I tried to give him the anesthesiologist’s phone number so that they could discuss it (and leave me out of it altogether)multiple times, and he refused. So I told the anesthesiologist what he said and why he was unhappy, because the problem still existed, whether he decided to address it with the appropriate person or not. Dr V then called me and was LIVID because I’d told the anes. what he’d said. The whole thing started because the anes. didn’t call in a second call team to take care of Dr V’s patients at his convenience, when they’re supposed to be reserved for emergencies. Well, and because I exposed him for the little girl he was. It’s not my place to argue with anesthesia on the surgeon’s behalf. If the surgeon has a problem with the anesthesiologist’s service, I no longer have a dog in the fight, because he should be professional and discuss it himself. I didn’t lecture him, I just told him that I wasn’t the appropriate person to address his concerns to. So then my boss gets involved, and the anesthesiologist defended me (luckily), and my job is not in jeopardy, but now Dr V wants to sit down with the 2 of us. Yay. That should be interesting. Yesterday, when we were finally able to do his case, he actually ran into me and didn’t even say excuse me. Wouldn’t speak to me. No loss, really, but basic manners and professionalism shouldn’t disappear just because he’s pouting. Whatever. I just think it’s being blatantly demonstrated that the rules that we’re supposed to follow aren’t being communicated to the docs, and the administration is leaving it up to the employees to take the brunt of the anger and frustration. I just figure if I follow the rules, it’s one less thing for them to find to fire me over, ya know? I don’t know, but maybe I’m the only one who’s been scared straight. Someone told me the other day that if there was an “overacheiver to following the rules” it was me. Yep. That’s me. Lil’ Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. *sigh*

Oh, and everyone needs to go check out Geohde’s site at missionimpossibleinfertile.wordpress.com. It’s on my sidebar. Her girls are never boring!

Someone asked me today if I’d swallowed a volleyball at breakfast! How funny! Everyone keeps telling me I ‘finally’ look pregnant! I told them I’d been feeling pregnant for quite some time, now, but yeah, Fletcher is definitely leading the way! Someone asked me today if it was my 1st, and I answered yes before I even thought. Kind of odd, considering I was concerned about that a few months ago. I guess I just don’t want to get into the whole story with some people. Think Little One will appreciate the thought anyway? I had a strange conversation today. I’m very close with some of my co-workers. They’ve been to dinner at my house, and I’ve been to see them play. They’re in a band, did I mention that? Anyway, they are. I was explaining to Mr. Friend that I really felt like I couldn’t let my son be around my stepson (without really getting into details) and he started to jump down my throat! I knew I could trust him with the details, I just didn’t want to get into it right then, but I went ahead and explained anyways. He apologized later, and we talked more in depth. Every single person I’ve explained this to has been able to see it both ways. Yes, I must at all costs protect my child, but my stepson is my husband’s child who needs us. I teared up, mostly because of abject fear. It’s stupid to let a 15 year old kid control my emotions like this, but I’m truly afraid he could hurt my son and I (or my husband) might get complacent and not realize what’s happening. Mr Friend was sympathetic, and understood that as a 1st (2nd?) timer, I’m scared of any and everything and waaaaay charged up. Part of it is the real threat, but part of it is me being afraid to admit that I’m still afraid I won’t get to have him at all. That something will happen. I’m afraid every day that some disaster (not even baby related) will strike. I’m not sure I can cope with anything else. Now EB is trying to cause trouble with the child support (although my husband’s been paying extra to catch up from his gap between jobs) and I just don’t have the strength. If she wants more money, well, she can’t get blood from a turnip, ya know? I can’t think of anything else it could be, since she’s about to lose that income for good. I need sleep. And some Xanax. Can’t get one, can’t have the other.

I had to drink the triaminic tasting stuff and get my blood drawn. The nurse asked me if I felt any different, shaky or whatever. I just felt hungry, which is nothing new. I’ll find out the results by Friday or Monday, but she said if I didn’t feel any different, I’d probably be fine. Fletcher was rolling all over the place. Dr M. listened to his FHR, measured my belly, and told me to come back in 3 weeks. Nothing exciting to report, I suppose. Oh, and about the EB (see previous post). She eventually quit calling. It apparently wasn’t that important. (Which we knew all along.) She just likes to try to make him jump through hoops. No more. We’re done. It’s creepy how her demeanor changes when she gets in his presence. It’s the most simpering, sweet mess you’ve ever seen. I think she’s under some delusions of grandeur that she can get him back somehow. Whatever. He rolls his eyes a lot. She tried to pick a fight one night and say that I was threatened by her. Huh. Wow. Some people have some crazy ideas going on. Because it totally my goal on career day to be 400lbs, have a louse of a boyfriend that won’t work, a dead-end job, no money, a piece of shit apartment (with not a pot to piss in), and two children by different men who didn’t (don’t) care enough about me to marry or respect me, I was just easy and available. Yep, I’m in. Where do I sign up? Told ya, she’s crazy. I probably sound like a total bitch, but trust me, if you ever met her, you’d say the same thing. I’m just glad we’re done with her. Of course, the trade off is having to deal with my MIL. The fact that I’m looking at that as a bright spot should tell you how awful the whole situation is with these people. I asked my husband once how in the hell he ever got hooked up with her, but I get the feeling that he didn’t know any better as a kid. He was just along for the *ahem* ride and jumped off when his better judgment got hold of him. He told me he was looking forward to raising our son, as he didn’t get the opportunity with his 1st one. I told him that he’d tried, he just picked the wrong girl. It happens.

the Ex-Bitch and his mother are blowing up his phone. It kills me that it makes me so nervous my adrenaline kicks in. They’re probably sitting at the MIL’s house right now scheming. What the hell makes them think we’d want to talk to her (Ex-Bitch) now that we have no reason to? We’ve been doing the happy dance that we’d never see/hear from her again. I told my husband to send his mother an e-mail telling her to lose his number, and to pass on the message. She’s probably figured out that she can’t afford to pay child support to my MIL and still feed her fat ass, so now she’s consented (most graciously) to accept him (my stepson) back, because he’s a cash cow and her other little yard child has a daddy that’s broke because he’s disabled and won’t work. Piece of shit. Sorry, did my prejudices come out right then? I would never deny anyone who truly needed help, but he’s got two arms and two legs and ten fingers and toes. He could find something to do. He’s not mentally challenged, he’s depressed. And they make medication for that, last time I checked. But I digress.
And another thing. Why is it that coupons only come in the mail when you need something but can’t afford it? That sooo gets on my nerves, but I’ll admit to being just the teensiest bit agitated at the moment. It always seems that whenever we’re broke, there’s a sale on stuff we need, and we can’t even afford the sale price! AAaaaaargh!

she’ll be coming ’round Tide Mountain when she comes, she’ll be washing ’round the mountain, she’ll be washing ’round the mountain, she’ll be …..Can you guess what I’m doing today? Anyway. You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you. Laundry. Soo fun. Anyway. My aunts and Dad’s new one are planning me a baby shower for next month. Awesome, I say. Dad keeps calling me and urging me to register at Target. I’ve already registered at Babies R Expensive. (This is Dad’s way of hinting that BRE is too expensive in his opinion, and he’s not going there, and he just doesn’t think anyone else will either.) So I did. And I waited. Now, I’ve heard neither hyde nor hair of when I’m supposed to show up or what I’m supposed to wear, so I call Dad, and he doesn’t even know. I’m like, “Dad. It would be really bad if everyone showed up but the honoree, don’t you think?” Yeah, we’ll have to see what’s going on, is his response. Finally, I get a call from my aunt asking if there was anyone (besides family) that I wanted to get an invite since they may not be invited to other showers. I gave her a couple of names, and she tried to get off the phone! I had to ask where and when and everything. How funny. They seem to have forgotten that my dad has been fired as the official information disperser in the family due to his complete lack of ability to do so. He forgot to tell my sister that Grandmama was having her birthday party last February. I have to call him the day before holidays to make sure no one has a party scheduled, or I might get left out the next time! I found out a week later that my cousin had had her baby. Stuff like that that he just doesn’t think about, or is important, I guess. Men. Can’t live with ’em, and you can’t kill ’em, I guess.

Shhhhh!!! My little magical mice are painting the baby’s room right now! My colors are ‘Bibbity Bobbity Blue’, and ‘Blustery Day’. Blustery Day is almost white, it’s so light blue, and the YCU had the idea for stripes on the wall. I don’t care, it’s just pretty. ‘Bibbity Bobbity Blue’ is somewhat self-explanatory, I hope. Now all I need is a fairy godmother to generously endow me with money upon her death. Unfortunately for my wallet, I don’t know anyone at death’s door. Oh, well. Usually, I’d rather have the person around anyway. I unloaded the car today, and will start going through it all probably this weekend. Assuming I don’t take call this weekend, anyway. Some friends cleaned out their attic, and gave me boxes and boxes of baby clothes and paraphernalia. I dreamed about what he’d look like last night. May not even be close, but I saw him with my face and that towhead blonde hair. My husband was blonde as a child. He also had rosy cheeks like a doll in a store! Total Gerber material.

I was awakened at 0330 by….nothing. I’m not sure what. Then I had to get up to pee say 3 times in the next hour, so falling back asleep was out. I couldn’t hit the snooze button cause I couldn’t go back to sleep. I got up, poured some cereal only to discover that I was using the last of the milk. Great. Now I would have to stop on the way home to get some. Got to work on time, was supposed to be 1st on the Early Off list, and they’d put me in the 2 cases that were the longest all day. Then, the doctor hollered at me for not wanting to drive the C-Arm xray machine and operate it, because we’re not supposed to. The xray techs do that. And when I say hollered, I mean screaming at me at the top of his lungs for “YOU GET OVER HERE AND DRIVE IT!!! AND DON’T TELL ME YOU CAN’T!!!!!” Yeah. Charmer, right? This is one of the docs I’ve had issues with before, and I thought we’d come to an understanding. I, apparently, was grossly in error on this issue. How dare he order me around like a child, for one, and berate me in front of colleagues, for another, just who the hell does he think he is! I should have ignored him till xray got there, but in the interest of de-escalating the situation, I complied. Then, I never got a lunch break, so when I got relieved at 2, I just clocked out and left. All in all, not one of my better days. First person who fucks with me tonight will end up on the news.

And I forgot to stop on the way home for milk. I have had a nap and some food now, so maybe my appearance on the news won’t be so disastrous.

After 3 trips in as many days. I’m definitely changing pharmacies. Maybe they were afraid that the infidels would blow up the pharmacy if they didn’t give me the drugs that day, I don’t know. What I do know, is I had no idea how dependent I’d become on the PNV’s stool softener. I was very relieved when I got them back. 😉 Anyway, went to dinner last night with my sister. She and my husband are very fond of sushi. Even if I wanted sushi, I couldn’t eat it, but don’t worry, when you’re with me, there will always be more sushi for you. Ick. That doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about fish in general, much less raw ones. Makes my skin crawl. So, my poor husband paid $15 for an AYCE buffet, for me to eat General Tsao’s chicken, Jello, Strawberries, Coconut clusters, and Ice Cream. I know. I eat like a child. I do NOT eat seafood, in general, (have tried lobster, but they’re not putting that on a buffet) and haven’t eaten so much as a fish stick since I was about 6. I told him that the next time he wanted sushi, to call my sister and they could have a date once a month. Have at it. I’ll be perfectly content (and goosebump free) all by myself at home eating mac and cheese. My husband is very adamant that our child isn’t gonna be ‘weird’ like me about food. Fine, I say. He then tries to tell me that I’m gonna have to eat the weird shit to get the kid to eat it. Nope, I say. And why not? Because. Mommy’s allergic. To anything that tastes icky, has a weird texture, or is just plain gross. I can’t wait for that standoff. I’m gonna go in the other room, enjoy my mac and cheese, and cheer my kid on from the sidelines! After we ate, we came back to our house and watched “17 Again” with Zac Ephron. He’s just the cutest thing. And this movie was very sweet and romantical. I liked it.

My stepson’s birthday is this upcoming weekend. It’s gonna be at my MIL’s house. Yay. I’m soooo excited. Can you hear the sarcasm through the computer screen? I knew you could. I told my husband I didn’t want to go. I don’t want my stepson knowing about the baby, and I don’t want my stupid MIL to walk up and start asking questions to tip him off. AND I just don’t want to be in the same house with my MIL. *sigh* My husband, of course, wants me to come. Told me I was just making excuses. For what? Not wanting to end up on the news? Not wanting my stepson with “problems” knowing that we’re having a baby? Not wanting my MIL to spill the beans cause she doesn’t have a discretionary bone in her body? Not wanting to confirm that my husband (as usual) wasn’t as clear as he thought he was in those instructions to my MIL? Oh yeah, and not to mention, I look preggo in every outfit I own now. There is no denying this. What exactly am I making excuses for? I’m getting a bit worked up. Maybe I need more meds.